Page 61 of Logan
“Because men like Anthony don’t get justice in court,” he says quietly, the words careful but steady. “Not the kind they deserve.”
I turn my head so I can see his face. “So what did you do?”
His jaw tightens, the muscle there ticking once before his gaze shifts toward the door. “Nothing you have to worry about.”
That’s when it hits me. I never heard sirens. Never saw blue lights outside the hotel. Just Cain and Dom. Silent. Focused. And the van.
The memory unspools in pieces blurry at first, like film catching in a reel. Between the haze and the blood and the weight of Logan carrying me out of that room, I remember Dom pulling out his phone, speaking low into it. Then the van pulled up. Unmarked. Black.
I see it again in my mind. Anthony being dragged out, his hands zip-tied behind him, a bloody rag stuffed in his mouth. Cain’s eyes on him, sharp and cold. Not looking at him like a man. Looking at him like a problem that needed removing.
My stomach flips hard enough to make me feel dizzy.
I push myself up slowly, every movement deliberate. My voice is barely a whisper. “You’re saying… the club took him?”
Logan doesn’t lie to me. Not now. Not after what happened.
“We’re taking care of it. I can’t say any more than that.”
I stare at him. Searching. Wanting more.
He meets my gaze without flinching, like he knows what I’m thinking but refuses to give me the kind of truth I might regret hearing out loud. “He hurt you. Twice. He hunted you. The law would call it attempted assault. Maybe throw a few years at him if we got lucky. But he’d be out. Looking for the next woman to corner. You really want that?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. “No.”
But it doesn’t stop the shaking inside me. Because this isn’t just about the pain or the bruises. It’s about what I know now, that there’s a shadow side to Logan’s world. A kind of justice that doesn’t come from judges and juries. And if I’m with him, if I stay, then it’s part of my world too.
Logan watches me like he can read every thought passing through my head. He reaches out and takes my hand, his fingers warm and firm as they lace through mine. His grip is grounding, anchoring me when I feel like I could drift away.
“I’ll never hide things from you, Mac,” he says, his voice even but heavy with meaning. “But I won’t apologize for protecting you, either.”
I glance down at our joined hands. My wrist still bears the red imprint of the cuffs, the skin tender to the touch, but hisfingers are steady and alive, a quiet reminder that I made it out. That I am here.
Just like him.
I nod slowly, my voice so soft it almost disappears into the hum of the fan. “Okay.” I pause, then say it again, firmer this time. “Okay.”
And I mean it.
Because there is a difference between justice and revenge.
And sometimes, the system isn’t made for women like me.
But I am not broken.
I survived.
And someone like Anthony will never touch me, or anyone else again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Logan
Skin against skin, blood and bone
You're all by yourself, but you're not alone
You wanted in, and now you're here
